


The Woman From My Dreams

by DelicatePoem



Series: Swan Queen Week Winter 2017: Alternate Universes Cubed [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Alternative Universe - Enchanted Forest, Arranged Marriage, Day 5, Drama & Romance, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Swan Queen Week, Swan Queen Week Winter 2017, Young Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Young Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicatePoem/pseuds/DelicatePoem
Summary: Emma is betrothed to a woman she's never met, never seen, and doesn't even know her name. Meanwhile, when asleep, since she was fourteen she started dreaming about someone called Regina. They are sometimes horrible, sometimes sad memories from a girl she's never met but always wishes for her Fairy Godmother to take her away from that place.Regina desires to be free from the clutches of an oppressive mother and those particular castle walls. She can't wait for the day she is to be married, to have a chance at finally having some sense of freedom.Or, the one where they are True Loves and don't even realize it.Swan Queen Week: Day 5 - Enchanted Forest AU





	1. it's more than curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so I'm really sorry for my delay. Not that anyone cares, but this weekend I had a friend from the States over here (I live in Brazil) so it was reeeeally cool to speak in English for long periods of time. It's so funny to see other people staring strangely LOL
> 
> Beta-ed by the lovely Sunriseyes.  
> Happy reading!

She sees her in her dreams. If Emma can call those _dreams_ , that is. The angel that is always there when she’s asleep is awfully sad, bordering on despair, and she wishes that isn’t how the girl is in real life, because if Emma is already pouring big fat tears on her pillow again only by remembering and being powerless to do anything about it, imagine if _her_ situation is real. And something in Emma’s heart tells her it is, in fact, reality.

 _Regina._ That’s all Emma hears every time. _Regina, do this, Regina, do that. Regina, adjust your posture. Regina, that is highly inappropriate for a lady…_

She cannot fathom why someone would treat her own child like a… mere pawn, a simple means to an end. And Emma cannot even say ‘well, she’s less fortunate than me’ because it is not true. Just from her dreams she learned that the brunette comes from nobility, if the fancy dresses and beautifully decorated rooms serve as clues. And her mother is terrible to her. If she could, Emma would take her out of there in the blink of an eye. _Fairy Godmother, please save my dream-friend from her horrible mom and oppressing castle._ She always wishes and desires for that on her birthday ever since the nightmares started, when she was just fourteen. For that’s what they were: nightmares disguised as dreams. The only dream part being the angel, the graceful woman who is probably about Emma’s age, seventeen.

Today she’s scheduled to meet her betrothed. She doesn’t have the energy to do so however, she has to. It is expected of the princess, as the symbol of peace for two imminent-war kingdoms. It is expected as the heiress of the crown, to end a feud of nearly four decades long. It’s a tremendous imperativeness that falls on her shoulders and she doesn’t foresee if she’s yet remotely equipped for the job. She’s going to be _Queen Emma of the United Kingdoms of White and Dark_ after her parents give their title to her and her wife-to-be. Has the fact been mentioned that she’s marrying a girl? Whom she has yet to meet?

Oh god, what if she’s strange, or awkward, or… doesn’t like Emma overall? That would be awful. It’s the middle of the night, and while she supposes she should really be sleeping (if she seeks to have a witty and healthy mind for their first meeting), her nightmare from this night prevents her from resting; instead, she’s fretting over someone she hasn’t encountered yet in her entire existence.

Emma has led a very sheltered life. It’s not from a lack of trying that she’s attempted to leave the castle walls - it’s nearly impossible with her near to none surviving skills. She can ride a horse and has learned subpar sword-fighting notions from her father. She wants adventure. Even if it's just a visit to the village to learn her betrothed’s name!

Why does no one mention it in front of her? Emma’s already asked it and is always brushed off, “You’ll know it soon enough, my dear.”

One of her other concerns is about the neighboring kingdom’s designated title. _The Dark Kingdom_. What does it mean? Are its inhabitants taken over by darkness? She unquestionably hopes not.

Only when the first crack of dawn arrives is she able to succumb to sleep again.

[SQ]

She wakes up early, has maids fussing over her dress for the day (a sleeveless and embroidered green dress with little diamonds by her neckline.) She's applied solely a small amount of mascara to prompt her green eyes to pop – Emma wants to be as natural as possible, because she believes that hiding herself behind a mask won’t accomplish anything other than pushing people away. Maybe that’ll be a problem in the future, but for now, and especially for meeting her wife to-be, it seems fair. They style her hair in a braid, per her request. Her golden mane is difficult to tame with the wind from outside, so she prefers it tied back.

Emma all but forgets about her nightmares for the day. She has business to attend to.

“Mommy, Daddy,” Emma glances at each of her parents as she enters the dining room, where they are waiting for her for breakfast. They seem to halt their own conversation, which was probably about her. Everyone is gossiping about her today.

“Emma!” Snow coos from where she’s sitting, green eyes bright. Her darling girl looks lovely.

“Hello, kiddo,” David smiles, a wistful expression on his face.

While they are eating, Emma is submitted to an interrogation: _Are you well-rested? Apprehensive? Summon into your mind the etiquette classes, will you, Emma?_   Then there is the lengthy talk of recommendations her mother gives her, while the king remains silent to her left. He cannot fathom his little one getting married soon.

“Don’t forget to smile, Emma, for yours is radiant,” the queen caresses Emma’s cheek. “Compliment her parents,” her mother continues her seemingly endless lecture, “even if it is undeserved…” Snow is speaking more to herself than to anyone else at that point, removing her hand from Emma’s face in the process. “Tell her that her dress is stunning, no matter if you do not think so…”

Emma stops listening after the third piece of advice or so. They are pointless worries of her mother, since they’d discussed this a hundred times over the past days—no, years. It is strange—she isn’t nervous as she’d been a few days ago. Mother and Father are panicking on her account (and with that she means her mother).

She just wishes for her fiancée to be there soon so that she can finally satiate her curiosities. The princess has never thought about ‘types’ and such, something she’d heard from her godmother Red one time. From a young age she learned about her situation regarding her union, and decided to not stray from her objectives by ogling other girls.

Emma might have looked out of pure curiosity once… or twice. Being inquisitive is a trait of her nature she’s often scolded for by her instructors.

Does she listen?

Of course not.

However, she’s never felt attracted to any of those girls. Yet, she did find out she prefers the fairer sex, which made her problems diminish ever so slightly.

She’s done with breakfast and is idly roaming through the halls. Questions don’t stop bombarding her brain. Is the Princess blonde, like her? Or brunette, maybe? Is her face amenable at least? Is her voice sweet or nerve-grating? Is she taller than Emma? Is she intelligent, witty, or simply dull? And, most importantly, what’s this mystery woman’s name?

Emma never gets to find out once noon strikes.

Time passes as she waits outside, hoping for a glimpse of a carriage bringing the Princess of the Dark Kingdom. Her mother has told her to go inside three times already, “Emma, there’s no need to stay outside, she’ll be here soon, you’ll see.” And then, a carriage does arrive, but a message is the only thing she gets, and from her betrothed no less.

She thanks the messenger and slowly opens the letter, not before tracing the written words with neat, perfectly curved handwriting on the back of the paper Emma is sure belongs to the Princess.

 

> _To the Princess of the White Kingdom_
> 
> _From the Princess of the Dark Kingdom_

 

_Dear Princess,_

_I hope you are doing well._

_It is with immense sadness that I must tell you that I’m not going to make it to your castle today. Either way, I made sure my letter was received on date, because I wouldn’t want you to jump to the wrong assumptions about what has happened. I beg your forgiveness, for I was quite anxiously waiting for our first meeting. It appears we won’t see each other until the day of the wedding after all._

_I have been coughing all night and today, I’m feeling quite under the weather. But know that I didn’t comply with resting without a fight. I simply couldn’t—can't wait to meet you in a month’s time._

_My best regards,_

_Your fiancée from the Dark Kingdom._

[SQ]

Regina cries and cries on her pillow, tired of this life.

Today she was going to see the Princess for the first time. And thanks to her herself, she isn’t.

Yesterday had been complete hell. She hadn’t slept well, for starters. Nightmares stemmed from Cora’s countless tongue-lashings and magical chidings kept her awake for most of the night. Because of it, she woke up feeling restless, as well as in a bad mood. And she shouldn’t make these mistakes by now, she shouldn’t, but she still does.

She can’t remember what set her off. Maybe it’d been her standoffish attitude, or her snappish responses. Regina just cannot recall, but it ended with her upper-right lip split open from one of her mother’s rings. “Regina! This is why you mustn’t disobey me,” Cora tutted. “Look at what you made me do. Even with my magic, I’m sure you’ll have a horrible scar to bear. Congratulations, you’ve just made yourself even more undesirable to your fiancée.”

She tries to blame her mother, but can’t. Maybe she’s right after all: Regina _is_ undesirable, awkward and disobedient, and this is what she gets from it.

But Regina just wants to be free, and that is why she writes the letter. She longs wholeheartedly to escape this place and to meet the Princess, not caring if her betrothed turns out to be worse. Even if she misses Daddy, who can never stand up for her because he’s just as afraid of Mother. Even if she isn’t allowed to take her beloved horse Rocinante with her. Even then, she wants to go away and never look back.

One more month.

One.

[SQ]

The three weeks leading up to the day of the wedding are boring. The only excitement emanates from her nightmares. Emma sees Regina sobbing more times than she can count. She sees an ill-meaning hand slapping, and another covering a bloody lip in shock. She sees, and sees, and sees. Emma is fed up with it. She cries too, sad for her angel called Regina.

She hides this from her parents, of course. No need for them to realize she’s melancholic now that the wedding is close. Emma resorts to writing every day, which helps her. Journals are filled with endless thoughts and sad poetry.

Two days later, and her wedding satin dress is being assembled around her body – starting with a corset into which she can at least breathe, but is still bothersome. A flowing skirt full with petticoats composes a beautiful white ball gown. The strapless, fitted bodice accentuates her prominent collarbones, and soon enough she’s wearing a diamond pendant necklace to further enhance it. The hem barely brushing the floor is easier to manage than the nude high-heels she’s provided with.

Later on her dressing maids are through. Her mom approaches with all her buzzing energy, eyes straightaway filling with emotional tears when Emma pivots to her. With a hand to her mouth, she takes in her daughter, who looks enchanting.

“Oh, Emma… She’ll surely love it.”

Last minute nerves get to her, because the words are out of her mouth before she can filter them in, “You sure?”

“Positive, honey,” Snow smiles, grasping one of Emma’s hands on her own. “She’ll be stunned.”

“Mommy, will she like me?” the blonde lowers her head, shy all of a sudden.

“Emma, what makes you doubt yourself—of course she will. Actually, it is you I am worried about. Please, please Emma, promise me you’ll take care of her. She may seem closed-off—I’ve known that family for the longest time, and it’s not her fault. I’m sure you’ll be great for one another. Can you promise me that?”

“O-of course, mom! You’ve met her? Wha—what? Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Snow sighed. “I’m sorry, but your father and I thought it was for the best. You’ll see her today, Emma. Today,” she tries to reason.

Emma is so nervous now she cannot stay mad. Not when she’s mere hours away from meeting her almost-wife. “Okay, you’re right…” she croaks.

“Now, I have a gift for you,” Snow says, taking hold of Emma’s hand again. She swerves to a box situated on top of the dresser and cautiously pries it open.

“What is it, Mother?”

Snow shows her a diamond tiara and Emma can’t help but gasp. It is beautiful.

“As a wedding gift, I give you this. My mother once told me it would be a symbol—for you to always hold goodness in your heart and rule justly. I never forgot her words. Right before she died, she made me promise I’d pass it on to my daughter someday. Here, come to the mirror and put it on.”

Emma takes the offered item. Staring at her reflection, she places it on top of her head. Her blonde curls falling down her back are brought out further with it. It truly renders her to look the part—a true princess, Snow comments.

“Now, let’s rehearse again your walk, just to be sure with those heels.”

[SQ]

Her dress is stifling, making breathing a difficult task—Mother demanded from the maids she wear the corset bound tightly, because what’s the point if it doesn’t shape her waistline? It doesn’t help the fact that she is terribly nervous. Regina will be free soon. Well, as someone to whom freedom meant sunny afternoons riding Rocinante along the green lands surrounding the stables, getting married sounds a better proposition than being _here_. Where her every move has to be calculated, where she has to be silent, where she is to obey her mother’s rules or else fear punishment.

Although restrictive, her A-line bell-sleeved white dress is amazing. The interminable full skirt gives it an extra flair. She feels beautiful—she won’t let her mother tell her otherwise.

Today is her day, and she will enjoy it, no matter if she doesn’t even know her betrothed’s name.

“Regina, now remember the poise and composure of a queen, for you’ll be one soon. Do try not to be a disappointment today.”

“Yes, Mother,” is the robotic response.

“Proudly wear this tiara, dear. You’ll make a fine queen one day if you do it confidently.”

It’s the closest thing to a compliment she recalls receiving, and she shouldn’t soak it up like it’s the most important thing in the world, but she does.

[SQ]

A political arrangement shouldn’t make her this excited. She’s standing outside the ballroom’s closed massive doors, waiting for her announcement and subsequent entrance, alongside her father.

“You ready, Emma?”

Emma breathes out. She isn’t sure she is, but refrains from saying anything to her father. Her throat feels closed up and the palm of her hands clammy. She manages to give a nod.

She’s attempting to attain any modicum of sense when she hears, “Princess Emma, from the White Kingdom!” and then the doors are opening and her father takes her arm in his and starts walking, basically nudging her forward, and she all but widens her eyes for a few seconds before walking down the aisle with him. He whispers, “Don’t look so shocked, sweetheart. She’s right there waiting for you.” From that her head deviates from David to the figure on the right side of the altar. The woman’s dress is exquisite, and now one of Emma’s questions has been answered: her betrothed has dark hair, which is now piled up on top of her head in a stylish up do.

However, while she’s being prompted forward by her father, the other thing she notices with a frown is that her fiancée is wearing a veil. One opaque enough that it only permits for her to see the outline of the woman’s features as she is finally led the final steps to the altar.

The ceremony and the vows in general are passing in a blur; she’s focusing on her wife’s voice instead. Her tone is timid, but her voice is a warm and pleasant sound to the ears.

“Do you, Regina Marie Mills from the Dark Kingdom, promise to take this woman to be your wife and love her for all eternity?”

Wait. Regina? That can’t be…

“I do,” she hears her wife say in a barely audible voice.

Regina? _Am I dreaming again?_

“And do you, Emma Ruth White, promise to take this woman to be your wife and love her for all eternity?”

“I do,” she whispers, dumbfounded. It cannot be her angel, right?

“I now pronounce you wife,” the bishop pauses, “and wife. You may now kiss the bride,” he concludes.

What now? Is she supposed to take off the veil or let _Regina_ do it?

She’s taken out of her musings when the dark-haired woman lifts the veil slowly, briefly lowering her head before raising her eyes to meet Emma’s for the very first time. But the blonde princess closes hers. There’s no time to evaluate as she ostensibly decides to get a grip on the situation and pecks her bride—their first kiss. Warm colors burst through her mind’s eye, a simple brush of lips enough to bring about this wonderful sensation.

They break apart a few seconds later—and it feels like a lifetime. As Emma gazes into the brown orbs and takes in her _wife’s_ face, (oh my God, she’s married now!) she gasps softly and cannot help but say:

“You’re the woman from my dreams!”


	2. one night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding reception, as well as a bad mother from Regina's side.  
> An embarrassing situation and more understanding from Emma's part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Woman From My Dreams" had so many nice responses I had some ideas on how to continue it, so here I am! Oh my, if you guys only knew the amount of research I did for this--it has blown out of proportion, I'm serious! Medieval history, wedding ceremonies, wedding receptions, middle ages clothes, and that's not even the beginning of it.
> 
> While Emma and Regina do seem too 'meek' and not like their usual selves, if I really push this to the direction I want to, they will get stronger and braver. Just wait. Anyway, Regina's point of view does seem more detailed, but I made it that way because this isn't, after all, her castle - she's seeing it at the same time as we do, right?
> 
> Oh, I wrote this fanfiction while listening to 'One Night' by Christina Perri. The chapter titles are borrowed from there!
> 
> Without further ado, hope you all enjoy it. Here's Chapter 2!

For the first time in Regina’s life, she feels warm, content, safe. If she could pinpoint another moment like this… but that’s just it: she can’t. Not when their kiss makes her nerve endings sing a sweet melody in tingly happiness. Not when her wife says a phrase so odd and yet magnificent—just like she is, a fresh balm to Regina’s melancholic soul. “ _You’re the woman from my dreams!_ ”

What had she meant by it? Regina isn't a dream. Her mother would certainly agree she's passable as a nightmare at best.

No time for these questionings, though. She’s gently holding hands with Emma as they are guided to the register: they are supposed to sign some papers that are to symbolize their union—to end the rumors of war, as well.

Although her dress makes breathing a strenuous activity and the tiara sat upon her head is a lot heavier than it seems, her body hurts from being constantly in a stiff and straight position. But her chin is up like her mother has taught her, and the gold wedding band encrusted with diamonds doesn’t feel like the promise of a prison—although it does weigh on her finger, but as a welcome, new sensation.

What truly bothers her is hiding herself behind a mask. After she had put on her dress and was practically done, Mother insisted on heavy makeup. The foundation gave her an overall paler-looking complexion, together with the rouge adorning her cheeks and eyeliner, eye-shadow, and mascara… To finish this all off, a blood-red lipstick attempted to conceal the already healed scar on her upper lip with no success. (Cora had been pissed about it, but deemed the rest necessary, for to her, Regina's face wasn't really that appealing).

The music playing now is a soft ballad; Regina enjoys it very much. They sign where necessary and wait for their parents to do the same, as well as council members and other important people Regina doesn’t care to acknowledge. Emma is a constant presence by her side, even though they don’t have the time to exchange more than a few words for now. She kisses Daddy on his cheek, but as an act of defiance doesn’t look back to Mother when the princesses stroll to the exit of the ballroom smiling to each other.

Before the wedding reception, they are led towards the balcony which overlooks the bailey and the gates of the palace. Down below, their subjects’ joyful cries are muted by the sound of a colorful fireworks display. It is a beautiful sight. They wave excitedly to their people, alongside the White and Dark Kingdoms' respective monarchs. She could get used to this.

Snow White, as Regina learned from their ceremony, is sweet and not afraid to speak up—something that baffles her—being one who has never had these same liberties. She stays quiet, as Cora had often instructed and made her repeat, _Don’t speak unless spoken to. No one wants to hear your awful ideas._

When the newlyweds are going down the stairs, though, Emma interrupts the silence to whisper just to Regina, “Mixing a long dress and these pair of heels doesn’t seem like a great idea now. If I fall, I think I’ll drag everyone with me just to make this fun. What do you think?”

Emma says this with such a straight face that Regina can’t hold her snort of laughter. Realizing what she’s done, she apologizes profusely with a hand to her mouth—aware of her mother’s judging glare behind her back.

Just before they go down the last flight of stairs, Emma stops Regina from continuing on as she touches her arm (she lets Cora, Henry and Emma’s family pass by them, the blonde’s mother ushering them down to let them talk, but gives a sly glance to Emma as if to say ‘hurry up’).

“Please, no need to be sorry, Regina. I’m glad someone finally appreciates my sense of humor. I’m quite funny, if I must say so,” Emma grins cockily.

Thankfully, she succeeds in calming Regina’s worrying stance—it melts away until the corner of her lips are upturned in a shy smile.

* * *

When they arrive at the Great Hall, the commotion is big. Everyone is there clapping their hands, and there are too many people to count. Waiters are offering beverages of all kinds. Others are those carrying plates of cheeses, grapes and foods of which Regina can’t even begin to imagine the names. Nobles are mingling, couples are whispering, the orchestra is playing. It’s an enormous affair. Columns and arches go all round the place, in a sophisticated yet simplistic way. The best part is being able to be relatively outside, breathing in the end of summer's offerings. Regina believes this will be amazing at nighttime: looking up, with the night sky visible. Stargazing is a favorite pastime of hers. And her new home, unlike the Dark Castle—dark as its name suggests and suffocating—consists of lighter, soft colors, with torches along the walls to channel further clarity.

She can’t wait to explore this place.

But the hubbub makes her nervous. She would much prefer if they could stay by the entrance, embodying the picture of perfect princesses, every once and a while nodding slowly to someone they didn't know, thanking the person for their compliment. She's tired already and the party hasn't even properly started yet.

Regina hadn’t realized they weren’t holding hands until Emma circles her and offers hers with a playful bow, “Milady, may I escort you to our seats?” the blond says in a gruff voice.

Biting her lip to conceal a smile, Regina lightly grasps Emma’s hand with a "Yes, you may," and the latter guides her to the seating arrangements.

The banquet is filled with luxurious foods and expensive wine. Emma's palm is warm in hers, and the brunette princess misses it greatly when they are sitting in front of each other: Regina and Emma are placed on opposite sides, next to the head of the long, rectangular table clothed with decorated linens. Strangely, no one seats there at the head now. Snow White and David are to the right of Emma, while on Regina's side she's followed by Cora and Henry. Besides them, other guests are there too, but Regina has time to learn their names and importance (she hopes).

"Stop slouching. Posture is self-respect." Regina clenches her hand around her silverware more than once due to her mother's whisperings, since she is seated right beside the newlywed. "Ladies do not repeat. Eat slowly." It makes her uncomfortable, so she helps herself to only one small serving, cutting her meat into tiny pieces and eating it timorously. "Do not forget what we talked about earlier today, Regina. Confidence. Remember that for tonight's duties."

Just as she is going to do something drastic (maybe explode) she hears, "Regina?" and that definitely isn't Cora's critical tone. Her head shoots up, a deer caught in headlights look painted on her features. "How was your travel?" Emma asks deliberately. Regina breathes out a sigh of relief and can't avoid glancing cautiously at Mother—with pursed lips, she has turned her attentions to her own meal for the time being.

The princess tries to convey her gratitude to Emma with her eyes as she answers, "A little on the bumpy side, but otherwise a safe travel. I was able to read some, too."

"That's great to hear. You enjoy reading? I must show you our immense library soon," the green-eyed girl says earnestly.

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Regina nods.

Their conversation comes to a halt when there is the sound of clinking glass—it's King David tapping on his wineglass. Even the orchestra stops so his voice can be heard throughout the hall as he starts his speech. "Excuse me, if I could have everyone's attention just for a moment… Thank you. This wedding ceremony is something we've looked forward to for a long time. With this, peace has been restored once again, and in the future we shall prosper even more alongside the future Queens of the United Kingdoms of White and Dark in a couple years time. People of our kingdom, it is our great joy to welcome Regina as a member of our family. Let us toast them!" He raises his glass, eyes crinkling with happiness.

The chorus of "To Princess Emma and Princess Regina!" causing both princesses to blush and smile at each other.

Regina has never felt more welcomed somewhere.

* * *

Once dinner is over, the newlyweds are encouraged to stroll over to the middle of the room, to dance together.

First, they curtsy holding up their fluffy skirts, then Regina quietly asks just before the orchestra starts playing, "Will you lead us?" Her mother had paid her dance classes with a female instructor since she was little, for their engagement. However, she often declared Regina wouldn't lead if she knew what was best for her—she was to be a proper lady.

"Oh, okay, yes." Emma's look is one of surprise.

* * *

"Don't they look positively enchanting?" Snow practically squeals as she watches them dance.

"Emma looks lovely," Cora comments almost patronizingly. "Though Regina could straighten back her shoulders," she huffs, eyes like a hawk upon her daughter.

"Oh, nonsense. They are having lots of fun, and look beautiful, Cora." Emma's mother offers as a rebuttal.

"If you say so…" she humphs.

* * *

 If people thought this would be strange for two women dancing, they were wrong.

Their movements are graceful, Emma as the Lead offering great communication with subtle body-language and visual signals; and Regina as the Follow interpreting them accordingly, thereby allowing them to be smoothly in tune. For them, no one else exists—not the guests, not their parents, not even the orchestra—as they glide across the room.

Regina discovers Emma to have quite the goofy personality sometimes: in one of their elaborate turns, she picks Regina up by her waist and carries her off the floor for a few moments. It makes her giddy, and both laugh.

The ballad comes to an end and everyone is applauding. Regina glances around for a second before gazing into Emma's eyes. The performance is finished with a quick kiss that neither know who started.

* * *

By the end of the night, Emma has extremely sore feet and is glad to be relieved of the corset when their assigned handmaidens tend to them both in separate en suite bathing rooms. Hers is a lovely girl, one year younger than her (sixteen) who goes by the name of Agnes. She's been her handmaiden for one year now and Emma can already consider her a friend.

What she learned about Regina's handmaiden is that she comes from the Dark Kingdom, probably to make the brunette's transition to the new place easier.

Emma had a great time at the party—Regina is endearing, though a bit too quiet. She only got brief snippets of her true self, and hopes to bring out that more. The princess is still trying to understand why Regina seems so… jumpy, demure. Even her mom isn't this polite all the time, and she's pretty damn polite. Cora has a dark aura surrounding her, as if she had to prove her association to the Dark Kingdom. It is troubling. _No wonder I tried to call Regina's attention to myself while we were dining. My God, that woman is terrifying._

Her mother's words are starting to make sense: "… _she may seem closed-off—I’ve known that family for the longest time, and it’s not her fault. I’m sure you’ll be great for one another_ …"

 _It's not her fault…?_ What was she trying to tell Emma?

They are to sleep in the same bedroom to get to know each other better; and although Snow has told her about intimacy behind closed doors (she'd blushed and blushed), until they are better acquainted, nothing is expected of them. Either way, Emma is anxious: she's never shared a bed with anyone (besides when she crawled her way in her parents' bed, on more than one occasion as a kid, to shake away nightmares she can't exactly recall).

Speaking of nightmares, even if she doesn't want to, she's plagued by sad flashbacks of what she's seen—it's impossible not to, in close proximity with the subject of her dreams. It gives her insight she didn't ask for, and it does make her feel guilty; however, it helps her to grasp better on Regina's reactions and what she can now show her new wife. It's the kind of giddiness she's never felt before.

"There, all ready," Agnes smiles with a bow of her head. "Can I offer any other assistance, Your Highness?"

"No, thank you, Agnes. I'm so happy to be out of this dress!" she laughs. "Good night."

"Good night, Your Highness," her handmaiden answers before leaving the room.

She's now wearing a pale yellow long-sleeved nightgown, her hair no longer has pins, her face devoid of makeup. She now feels like… herself, if that makes sense.

* * *

Regina had begged her handmaiden not to remove her makeup. Beatrice had eventually relented. Mother specifically told her that she wasn't to be without her foundation or lipstick—or else her wife would surely find her undesirable.

With only a silk white slip to cover her up, she feels exposed and cold, for the weather is getting worse with the start of winter soon.

Looking at herself in the full-length mirror inside the bathroom, she gives herself a pep-talk. "Everything will be just fine, you'll see. Emma seems really lovely, and maybe this will be okay. I just have to let her lead again. Wifely duties are to be expected," she breathes out shakily. Who is she trying to fool? Her hands are trembling badly, and it isn't solely from the cold temperature. Either way, she manages to grasp the door handle and pushes it open.

Emma hasn't arrived yet, so she sits on the edge of their four-poster canopy bed to wait, which is a pastel blue color that calms her down ever so slightly—blue is her favorite.

She just wishes for this to be over soon.

* * *

"Oh! Hello Regina, I suppose you must be tired, sorry to keep you waiting. I'll just put these," she lifts a pair of earrings, "on my vanity table right here…" Emma trails off, distracted, her back turned to Regina.

A strange shuffling movement makes her look over her shoulder and what she sees causes her to drop the jewelry on the floor in her haste to cover her eyes. "Oh my God, what are you doing?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though here isn't close to winter yet, the Enchanted Forest sounds lovely with some snow (let's not mention the fact that I've only seen snow when I was a baby?)
> 
> Hope it was an enjoyable chapter (sorry not sorry for the slight cliffhanger).


	3. covering all your wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassing situation bypassed, and explanations thanks to Emma.  
> Bad dreams chased away (for the time being) by Regina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might know where I want to go with this. Had to borrow some verses from 'One Night' again.  
> Sorry for my delay, but I will update this asap!  
> Beta-ed by the wonderful Sunriseyes.  
> Well, hope you all enjoy it! Here's Chapter 3!

_"Oh! Hello Regina, I suppose you must be tired, sorry to keep you waiting. I'll just put these," she lifts a pair of earrings, "on my vanity table right here…" Emma trails off, distracted, her back turned to Regina._

_A strange shuffling movement makes her look over her shoulder and what she sees causes her to drop the jewelry on the floor in her haste to cover her eyes. "Oh my God, what are you doing?!"_

There are situations in life you aren’t prepared for. Emma finds that this one shall be listed as one of them, right after becoming aware of whom her betrothed was. What are you to do when someone you’ve yet to know fully, starts to remove their night clothes? No matter that the glimpse she gets from her olive-skinned legs makes Emma feel all tingly for a brief moment -- they appear to be so soft...

“I-I… I don’t understand?” Emma hears Regina ask haughtily. She listens to the shifting of fabric and slowly lowers the hand raised to her eyes. “My sincere apologies, Princess Emma,” she backtracks, breath hitching briefly, “if I have done something wrong.” She crosses her arms, not looking directly at Emma now.

The blond-haired woman picks up her earrings from the floor, laying them aside on the vanity. Then, acting on impulse, she approaches Regina and silently indicates with her head toward the bed at the same time as she answers, “I believe we should talk.” By now, the nightgown has been lowered altogether from being bunched up around her wife’s waist to back down around her ankles.

Regina signifies her agreement to the idea by nodding her head. Emma proceeds to sit on the edge of their bed with the brunette alongside her. Turning to Regina, she notices her stiff, straight back and the gorgeous chocolate eyes which are glancing at fidgeting fingers - the gold wedding band they now share made more prominent by the act. She _must_ set her wife’s mind at ease. Honesty in their marriage shall be of the essence.

“You did nothing wrong, Regina. In fact, I ought to be the one apologizing for my rude reaction…” Regina opens her mouth to deny it, but Emma lifts her hand to stop her from interrupting. “My mother has spoken to me about our wedding night and--” she blushes and smiles bashfully, “and…nothing’s expected from us until we are better acquainted. I imagined perhaps your own mother had informed you of this?” she inquires, now waiting for the dark-haired beauty to speak.

A sharp intake of breath follows her statement, so Emma slips her hand into Regina’s. It's an electrifying touch: it has inexplicably been this way from the moment they met. The skin is smooth, albeit cool -- is Regina cold? Emma should do something to fix it. Her own hand is warm enough, she supposes. All the while, she does not exactly understand the cause of her wife’s pain; however, she’s not able to bear seeing her like this, so bewildered, so… forlorn. Engulfing the brunette’s hand works, because Regina finally looks into her eyes -- with a pair of her own that are full of unshed tears.

While they remain silent for a few seconds, a single tear begins its trail down a too pale and rosy cheek, and Emma brushes it away with the pad of her thumb before she’s fully realized what she’s doing. Regina flinches for an instance and then relaxes; melting under Emma’s concerned green orbs.

They gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems like yet another lifetime before Regina breaks the silence, bottom lip trembling in an effort to hold off crying. Emma wonders how many times (besides what she’s already unwillingly seen) Regina has had to fight back tears. “ _No_ wifely duties are expected?” her voice is quiet, perplexity mixed with apprehension evident in her tone. It breaks Emma’s heart to hear it, since they should be equals, but the brunette seems to have different notions of their marriage. It is all very strange -- did Cora lie that much to her own daughter? _You know the answer to that, Emma._

Mapping Regina’s cheek with her right hand while her other holds the princess’, she vows, “No. Will we become intimate someday? I do not know, for I cannot predict the future.” Both smile shyly. “However I would really love for us to get acquainted with one another. I feel as if we’ll be great friends someday,” she grins.

Baby steps: Regina grins back, and for Emma it is as if her world has suddenly turned brighter.

“I’d love nothing more,” Regina says.

“Great! So tomorrow, I was thinking we could…” Emma trails off, seeing that the thumb that was brushing her wife’s face is smudged with makeup. _Why wear makeup to sleep?_ she ends up asking the question aloud.

“Mother said my face would look undesirable otherwise,” she whispers, as if Cora would hear her from the other side of the castle.

“Do you really believe that? Just your smile, for starters, is the most beautiful, it… lightens up the whole room!” she comments excitedly. “Your eyes are of this chocolate color I could drown myself in and--” Emma stops, shaking her head, “--poetry makes me say strange things, forgive me.”

Regina hangs her head, blushing. “No one’s ever said those things to me. You paint me in a new light, a new person I’ve never seen before. Thank you.” She grasps both of Emma’s hands, voice light as she talks. “Poetry is an art I’ve never quite mastered myself. Perhaps you’d be willing to show me some of yours sometime?” her voice is hopeful as she asks.

“Oh, I’d love to! And there is no need to thank me -- I speak the truth and the truth alone.” A smile lights up her face -- she’ll do anything for Regina. “Oh, how about I help you remove all this makeup? It must feel uncomfortable, does it not?”

Regina eyes her with trepidation, but reluctantly agrees. A few minutes later, Emma has her maid bring her a small basin filled with warm water and a cloth, which she dips into the basin and wrings it out twice to leave it just wet, not dripping.

“You really don’t have to do this, Princess Emma. I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

“I know you are, but I want to.”

And that is how they end up: sitting again on the bed while Emma carefully and gently brushes away layers of product from Regina’s face. It should feel strange, since the brunette kept looking at her like she was a creature from another planet, but it doesn't: she feels comforted by Regina’s scrutiny, in a way caressing her, and finally seeing her wife for who she is. No masks, just pure and simply… Regina.

Beautiful Regina, who now seems even more vulnerable, waiting for the other shoe to drop -- as if Emma will not like what she is uncovering. There’s a lot more to uncover either way.

“There, all done…” Emma murmurs, gazing into brown orbs brimming with fear. Briefly, her eyes fall on the fresh scar present on Regina’s upper lip, but she avoids commenting on it for now - it must be a sore subject. Anyhow, it doesn't diminish her beauty. “You are even more enchanting than I imagined!” she says, giggling. It is true: Regina’s features seem further accentuated without the presence of all the makeup, giving her a younger look and, in Emma’s opinion, making her gorgeous.

The edges of Regina’s lips quirk up on a small smile, smoothing the worry lines present around her mouth. Oh well, it is there and that’s all that shall matter at the moment. “If you say so…” the brunette whispers.

“I say so.” Emma nods resolutely. “Now, I don’t know about you but I’m in dire need of some sleep. My feet are killing me from all the dancing,” she says playfully. “Shall we retire to bed?”

[SQ]

An hour later finds them with the sound of crackling fire filling the silence, as they lay on opposite sides of the bed, turned to their sides, looking at each other. It is not uncomfortable per se, but Emma feels the need of saying something - anything - to reassure her wife before they fall asleep.

Not only that, she wants to get to know her as soon as possible.

“I did not know your name until we were at the altar,” Emma whispers. She’s lowered her tone even though at a loss of why she did so. It seemed fitting.

Regina’s brows scrunch up and her brown orbs are full of barely concealed curiosity.

“Really? Me neither.” She ends up whispering back. Perhaps Regina finds it fitting too. “I tried to discover the mystery behind it, with no such luck. My musings about it didn’t do justice to your name nor your beauty,” Regina confesses shyly. It resurfaces an old feeling Emma’s become acquainted with after stealing sweets before lunch when five years old; reading until the break of dawn when twelve; or keeping to herself her knowledge of these… horrid, strange dreams for so long - omitting about it. It is _guilt_ : she’d known one way or another, who the brunette was. It didn't matter that she’d seen her only at the wedding, because now she has all this knowledge about Regina.

Knowledge her wife doesn't have back.

Mustering up the best smile she can (more like a grimace) she thanks Regina politely, proclaiming to be tired. “We should get some sleep. Good night, Regina.”

The woman in question doesn't pick up on her disheartened tone, for she answers, “Good night, Princess Emma. Sweet dreams.”

_If only you knew..._

[SQ]

 _One night I’ll be the moon,_ a voice starts singing. Though lovely, it sounds sad, held down by a greater burden on top of its shoulders.

_Hanging over you…_

The clashing of metal against metal can be heard distinctly. A battle of sorts? Emma cannot see. What’s happening? Why is she engulfed in permanent darkness?

Something clatters loudly on the ground.

“Emma!”

That sounds like… Regina. _Regina?_ What’s the matter? Are they in danger?

Suddenly, her eyesight returns in a white flash that blinds her for a split second. Next, she is made audience of her own imminent demise.

“Now you’ll all pay. She’s not getting away with this!” a strange figure bellows and she’s not prepared. What’s happening, who’s this? What have they done?

 _Spilling all over your body_ echoes inside her head…

The impish figure prepares to strike with his sword.

“No!” somebody cries out.

And the moment it takes for Emma to realize she’s as defenseless as a newborn - a full-on trembling thing -, is the moment someone steps in front of her.

This person gasps audibly as the enemy pushes his arm holding the sword forward, successfully stabbing the wrong target. Consequently, the sweet perfume of purely Regina enters her nostrils when her wife leans heavily on her. The person was Regina? Why? No, no, why is Regina hurt, she’s not supposed to get hurt… Why did he have to do this? No, no!

As she lays Regina on the ground (Regina, why Regina?), she presses her hands on the injured stomach. _So much blood…_ She sobs and laments away while hugging her precious wife to her.

Her princess murmurs peacefully as she closes her eyes, “Covering all your wounds.”

Emma hears a faraway voice shouting at her before darkness is her reality once more.

[SQ]

Regina wakes up, startled, after hearing whimpers and getting struck by an elbow on her ribs.

The situation quickly becomes clear: Emma’s in distress.

When silently calling Emma’s name doesn’t work, she throws caution to the wind (hoping Emma won’t be bothered by her touch) and gently shakes her wife’s covered shoulder until she obtains result.

Emma shoots up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. She appears to be frantically searching for something around her before her gaze falls on Regina, and she sob-exhales in utmost relief. The blonde covers her face with her trembling hands and starts crying in earnest.

“Princess Emma! Shhh, it’s okay! It’s over.” Regina tries to calm the woman down, even if she’s not very good at it. What had Emma seen to set her in this kind of despair?

“R-Regina? You’re not dead?” Emma stammers, now touching both of Regina's cheeks as if to reassure herself of this fact, while fat tears stream down her pale face.

“Of course not, we were just sleeping. It was only a nightmare,” the brunette says in a tone filled with concern, while confused as well: what had Emma been dreaming about? She herself had been present in the nightmare, and apparently died. She shudders just trying to imagine it.

She’s taken out of her reverie by Emma’s murmur. “It was too real…”

“Would you perhaps want to… talk about it?” she offers politely.

Emma only blinks, brushing away remaining tears. “One night you’ll be the moon,” she whispers frightfully.

 _She’s not making any sense,_ Regina thinks. “Let’s try and get some more sleep, the sun isn't up yet, dear.”

The term of endearment is ignored by both parties (for now). “I… okay, um... Would you perhaps…” Emma starts shyly, “...hold my hand?” she finishes. Regina cannot bring herself to say no -- she would never do it, because she is just as scared as Emma for reasons she cannot fully comprehend yet.

Soon she will.

And as she lies awake long after Emma’s already settled down and managed to find sleep again, Regina finally takes some time to contemplate just how much her life has changed in one day. She’s married. She’s sharing a bed. She’ll say goodbye to Mother tomorrow. And, most importantly, she’ll be free.

Or as free as she can be -- and that’s enough for now.

With these final thoughts, she closes her eyes and wills herself to succumb to sleep. She holds Emma’s hand between them with hope evidenced by the grin on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> If anyone is interested, I'm over at tumblr with the same user: delicatepoem. Feel free to pop by!  
> Don't forget to leave a comment below, and if you enjoyed it, kudos make my day! ;)


End file.
